❝𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄- 𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬❞

alexandria; twenty two

tw: depictions of domestic abuse/ violence

I didn't need to get close to Jessie's front door to hear the commotion—grunts, objects clanging, and Pete's screams.

My feet moved swiftly on the pavement after a loud clang was followed by silence. I barely noticed how fast I was walking until I found myself at the front door. Taking a deep breath and recalling what Deanna had asked, I knocked. It was obvious I was there. I wasn't sure how things would play out. Despite killing walkers and battling the worst horrors in this world daily, confronting Pete now seemed far more terrifying.

I heard cursing, mumbling, and then footsteps approaching the door.

Pete pulled back the curtains on the window, shot me a cold look, and slowly opened the door.

"You need something?" Pete asked. I swallowed and paused before speaking, not wanting to mess this up.

"Uh, yeah, Deanna said she needed you... something about someone needing stitches at her place. Could you check it out?" I asked. I knew once the truth came out, it wouldn't end well for me, but I had to make sure Jessie was okay first.

Pete scoffed and leaned back with a sigh.

"Jesus, can't you see I'm a little busy right now?" he asked as if I was supposed to recognize that.

"Deanna's orders. I'm just the messenger," I said, standing my ground.

"Fine, whatever," Pete grumbled. He put on his shoes, stepped out the front door, and headed down the steps. He seemed too out of it to notice I was still on his porch. I waited until he was out of sight, then opened the front door and quietly closed it behind me.

"Jessie?" I called out. It was eerily quiet, but I waited for a response.

"Jessie, it's Mercy. I know you're in here—I heard you from outside," I continued, slowly walking into the living room.

"Pete's gone," I said.

Jessie quietly stepped into the living room from the opposite side of the hallway, holding an ice pack against her ribs. My eyes widened at the sight. God, it was true.

"Jesus, Jessie, did he—" I began, stepping forward to check on her, but she held up her hand defiantly, signalling she was fine.

"I'm fine, really," she said, slowly sitting on the couch.

"I lied to Pete, and told him there was an injury at Deanna's, so I don't have much time. But Jessie... Pete's hurting you. Are the boys—" I hesitated, almost too afraid to ask the question bluntly, unsure if I even wanted to know.

"No," Jessie said firmly. "No, he'd never touch them," she added as if that was supposed to make everything else okay.

"You have to know by now that people hear things. Pete's not exactly quiet. We're worried about you, Jessie," I said, my voice trembling slightly, unsure of what to say next.

"You're a sweet girl, but truly, this isn't any of your business," she replied, starting to stand up again.

"But Jessie, this can't go on. It just can't," I insisted, feeling a knot tighten in my stomach.

"What choice do I have? He's the father of my kids, and it's not like I can leave him for another city," she said, her voice heavy with resignation. She had a valid point.

"Then we put you and the boys in a different house," I suggested, desperately trying to think of any plausible outcome for this impossible situation. Jessie scoffed, wincing as she pressed the ice pack against her ribs.

"Like that would stop him," she muttered, the darkness in her eyes mirroring the hopelessness in her voice.

"You think he'd follow through with it?" Jessie scoffed again, her laugh cold and hollow.

"Well... maybe..." I replied, my voice betraying my uncertainty. It likely wouldn't work.

"I think you should go now. I appreciate you checking on me, but he'll be back soon and it's not safe for you to..." Jessie began.

"Safe for me? Jessie, I've seen this before with my mom's boyfriends. First, it's yelling, then it's hitting, then he breaks something, and if you leave it long enough he'll..."

"What, kill me? He'd never," she interrupted, but her voice wavered. I could see in her eyes that she didn't even believe her own words. The room seemed to darken around us, the oppressive silence suffocating, as if the house itself was listening.

"He would. And you'd be dead before he even realized what he'd done. That's what men like him do."

"You don't know Pete, you don't know anything about me!" Jessie exclaimed, her agitation rising. I could tell I had pushed a button.

"Jessie—"

"Just leave, Mercy. Just leave." She turned and walked back into the hallway.

I gave her a worried, unnerved look before making my way back to the front door. As I stepped outside, I found Ron standing there, his eyes cold and penetrating. It felt like he could see right through me, and I hated the way it made me feel.

"Don't worry about us. I can protect her," he said, trying to sound tough and put together. His words echoed with a hollow bravado, the darkness of the situation seeping into his young voice.

I glanced back through the window to see Jessie one last time before turning to face Ron.

"No, Ron. You can't," I said, brushing past him and heading down the street.

As I neared our house, I was surprised to see Carol holding Judith on the porch. Her eyes were stern, mixed with worry. I walked up the steps, planting a small kiss on Judith's forehead before stepping back to face Carol.

"You saw it, right? What he's doing to her?" Carol asked. I nodded.

"So we agree? Something has to be done?"

I sighed, taking in the cool night air. There weren't many ways for this to play out for Pete, and I knew that. 

"Something has to be done," I said.

Carol scooped up Judith once again, bouncing her against her shoulder. She glanced around the street, ensuring no one could overhear. Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"Tonight. We'll talk to Rick. Come up with a plan."

"Right, Rick," I echoed, his name feeling strange in my mouth. I hadn't seen him since the previous night. I wanted to discuss what we'd done, but I hadn't mustered the courage or figured out what to say. Still, he was Alexandria's "cop."

*

Later that night, Carol and I had met up with Rick in the armoury, I could hardly even make eye contact with Rick as I walked in, and he had equally just as awkward of a demeanour about himself.

With Carol's presence, the tension eased slightly. Our focus was solely on Jessie.

"He's hitting her," Carol stated flatly. Rick turned to the window, his expression unreadable in the dim light.

"Yeah, I know," he acknowledged, his voice tinged with resignation.

"It's not going to stop, Rick," I interjected, my voice trembling with a mixture of fear and determination.

"No, it won't," he replied, his tone grim.

"So we know what needs to happen," Carol began, her words hanging heavy in the air.

"I'll talk to him," Rick decided, his voice cutting through the silence.

"And if he doesn't listen?" Carol pressed, her eyes reflecting the uncertainty of our situation.

"Then I'll have to end it," Rick muttered, his words sending a chill down my spine.

I met Rick's gaze, and in the dim light, I could see his pupils dilate. There was a darkness in his eyes, a familiar intensity that sent a shiver down my spine—a reminder of who he'd been before.